


Customary

by tercalumireis (aishwarya)



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishwarya/pseuds/tercalumireis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I've heard that one of the many unspoken ways a Commandant could formally announce his relations with someone was to have them spend the night in his quarters.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Customary

The clanking of the Commandant's attire fills the otherwise still air of the Imperial Castle, and Yuri can't help but to stifle a chuckle when the lower knights press their hands to their foreheads, chanting greetings and spilling their graces at the sight of Flynn entering the atrium. Today’s show is particularly funny — one knight nearly trips over his own feet to tell Flynn how _eagerly_ he took the initiative to … sweep the hallway floors, while another gushes over how he managed to polish every single sword in the Imperial inventory. Flynn is entertained, rather mildly, and asks the knights for privacy while he shows Yuri the spoils of his new quarters. The lackeys immediately comply, scrambling to leave Flynn and Yuri on their own, and some even throw salutes in Yuri's direction. Weird.

Flynn leads Yuri to a hallway full of stained glass windows, all of which depict Alexei's image; it appears as if they are all in the process of being replaced. At the end of the hallway lies a door covered with golden laurels; at the other side of the door lies their destination. For the Commandant's Quarters, the room is much too plain, much too _Flynn_  — aside from the typical dresser, bed, and desk, the only things taking up space in the room are Flynn’s sword and sheath and one of Ted's hasty drawings.

"… Looks nice," Yuri says, outstretching his arms and falling on the bed. Flynn chuckles, discarding his boots by the door, an action that fails to go unnoticed. "Hah. Didn't know it was  _that_ fancy."

"This  _is_ the Commandant’s Quarters," states the owner of the room, a little too acrimoniously, as if he doesn't want all of this. Yuri scoffs, propping himself up on the mattress with both arms, and gives his best friend the most jaded look he could muster.

"You deserve all this fancy shit, Flynn. You really do. But why the hell is the room so ... "

"Empty?" Flynn interjects, setting his shoulder braces down on a nearby shelf. "I moved in yesterday. It's going to take me a while to move everything between quarters, as you can see."

"You've been the Commandant for months, and you moved in yesterday because …?"

"Because I wanted a nice setting for tonight’s festivities," the blond says, and Yuri knows that translates to something between  _you just saved the world, so you should probably sleep like royalty tonight_ , and  _I kinda wanted to fuck you on my first day in the Commandant's room_. The vigilante watches his best friend grab two bottles of champagne —  _expensive_ champagne, actually, because he's pretty sure he’s seen it behind the window of some gaudy boutique in the Royal Quarter before — and two large wine glasses. They're tinted and elaborately decorated, and Yuri is quite certain that they were gifts from some pompous noblewoman who wanted her way with the highest-ranked governmental official in the Empire.

"Now I’m pretty excited for these festivities," Yuri teases, leaning back on the bed and allowing his skin to show through the hem of his shirt. He watches as Flynn pours the champagne into the glasses, turning the tip of the bottle at the end of the drip, much like the rich snobs do at fancy eateries — when did he start doing  _that_?

He's still mulling over Flynn's new mannerisms when the empty champagne bottle is discarded. "Enjoy," Flynn says, and when Yuri finally snaps out of his daydream, a glass filled to the brim is hovering in front of his face. He initially suppresses a compulsion to sniff the contents of the glass, but his instinct eventually gets the best of him and his nose is greeted with the overbearing scent of …

"Halure? Did they stuff petals into this or something?"

Flynn laughs, and Yuri doesn’t like it one bit — that’s the age-old sound of  _wow, Yuri, you really don’t learn!_  He's preparing a snide comeback when Flynn suddenly positions himself on the other side of the bed, his own glass in hand, already helping himself to the frothy liquid.

"While many tourists and travelers know Halure for its foliage, wine connoisseurs know it for its grapes," Flynn begins, suppressing an instinct of his own: a garish rolling of the eyes. "And everyone knows that  _grapes_ are used to make champagne, not … petals, or leaves."

Yuri begins to drink the champagne, making sure to take twice as many sips as Flynn does, as the latter is known to be a  _horrible_ lightweight. They should at least be on the same level for tonight. "And since when were you a wine connoisseur? I thought you too busy climbing the ranks to actually pay attention to little things like that."

"My knowledge of champagne has everything to do with me 'climbing the ranks,' actually. Alexei would accompany my written notices of promotion with packages of fine wine." A puzzled look and a  _very_ high eyebrow raise, and then, "It was customary. Really."

"You know what else was customary?" When Flynn throws him a look that screams  _humor me_ , Yuri continues. "I've heard that one of the many unspoken ways a Commandant could formally announce his relations with someone was to have them spend the night in his quarters."

A moment of silence, and then: "Who told you this?"

"It's common knowledge.  _Really_."

"I beg to differ."

"Didn't the guy before Alexei do it? What was his name? Commandant Corvus? He told his subordinates that his mistress would be spending the night, and the next morning, Zaphias was full of reports that he had found a First Lady."

"How would you know? You weren't even born yet!"

"Flynn, I saw the way the knights looked at me on our way in. Actually, I saw the way they  _didn't_ look at me. Every time I enter this castle through an actual door, I'm greeted with some kind of suspicious stare — you’re telling me that you  _didn't_  speak to them about tonight?"

"I did no such thing."

Yuri scoffs, gulping his drink down with a touch of defiance, and Flynn is eager to open another bottle and fill his glass again. They laugh and bicker a bit, and Yuri becomes more open with every extra glass, vividly explaining the contents of the final battle with Duke to his best friend —  _and I thought we were fucking_ dead _, but we managed kick ass in the end, just like we always do_  — and, at one point, choosing to argue over his rightful acknowledgement —  _who the hell said I wanted a party? I don’t want a bunch of debutantes celebrating how their precious little Royal Quarter didn’t come to an end because of us_  — and with every new topic, Flynn seems to shift closer to him.

Yuri isn't sure of when they decided to lie down — maybe it was after his third drink — but he quickly sits up and takes a breath, trying his hardest to keep his composure. Surprisingly, he is the only drunk one in the Commandant’s quarters, as Flynn’s calm, blue eyes confirm.

Maybe it's the alcohol, but things seem to be moving faster than usual; just moments ago, they were trailing down the castle's hallways, and now they're on Flynn's bed, inches apart. "… Come here," Flynn orders, pulling Yuri closer as he directs him to his lap, carding his hands through Yuri’s hair. And then the knight leans in and Yuri suddenly feels uneasy because  _is this really happening_? And it’s not as if it hasn't happened before, but things are different now. Things are  _certainly_ different now: the world just might be a better place, the mechanics of the universe aren't as much as a mystery as they used to be, and there’s finally a Commandant in power who gives a shit.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Yuri whispers, grabbing on to his best friend’s legs as he feels another wave of queasiness pass through him, and Flynn pulls him closer, latching on to the vigilante's arm for stability. Yuri shakes his head, trying his hardest to cover up a hiccup, and somehow finds the energy to speak through his alcohol-induced haze. "Completely, one hundred percent sure?"

"We've been doing this for ages, Yuri." Flynn smiles, warmer than usual, and Yuri feels weird — a little  _too_ weird, considering that his shoes are the only article of clothing on the floor and the real action hasn't even started yet. Flynn’s always had that kind of power over him, and he has that kind of power over the entire Empire now, and Yuri isn't quite sure how he feels about that. "Why would it be any different now?"

Yuri curses the sudden lucidity that Flynn has been given and curses Alexei's grave for giving Flynn the opportunity to build a tolerance to alcohol. Despite this, he tries to articulate something,  _something_ through the obscurity that is currently his head, and ends up saying the same cliché that he’s been telling Flynn for ages: "I’m a criminal," and then, "Y-you’re the Commandant." Yuri finally manages to exhale (how long has he been holding his breath?) and his vision is blurry and hazy and Flynn laughs once again. This scene has become trite at this point, and he’s more tired than he is exasperated, but Flynn tugs at his hair and draws him closer for a kiss that leaves him shaking.

He takes a brief moment to think about where this is all going, what this all means. He has been more than content with staying by Flynn's side, yes, but it was supposed to be temporary. He was supposed to be able to step back and, from afar, watch Flynn climb the ranks and drink uppity flower wine with someone of his own type, of his own virtue. Never in his life did he imagine a Lower Quarter miscreant being pressed against the Commandant's bed, exchanging greedy kisses with the Commandant with increased intensity, fervently discarding the Commandant's attire with little care …

And then Flynn’s hands — the  _Commandant's_  hands — are up Yuri’s shirt, working at his chest, and his tongue is licking the side of Yuri's neck a little too hungrily, and that's when Yuri realizes that he  _isn't_ the only drunk one in the Commandant’s quarters. Flynn has been waiting for this, intoxicated by the very thought of making Yuri his, making Yuri  _officially_ his, by all standards of the Empire, and when Flynn breaks open a gel and steadies himself, slowly beginning to move inside of Yuri, Yuri  _knows_.

Tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after that, he would belong to the Commandant.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction in years and my first piece on AO3! Forgive me if it seems rushed.
> 
> I tend to formulate most of my Vesperia headcanons in the PS3 universe -- a universe in which Flynn actually traveled with Brave Vesperia and was present for the final battle. For this fic, however, I thought it would be more fun to have Yuri drunkenly explain what had happened, rather than having the two talk about what they had both seen. I dunno. Oh well.


End file.
